Then Feargus rode out into the night, and entered the forest of Sherwood and, keeping the line of the Trent water, rode northwards till he came to the castle of Newark; here finding a boat, he crossed the river and took his road eastwards, and no man asked him whither he went or whence he came, he being dressed in the garb of a minstrel. And right cunningly he could play when need was, for he loved the harp better than the sword. On he fared until he reached Lincoln or Lindum, wherein dwelt Torfrida. He entered in boldly at the great gate and took his way into the town, mounting the brae on which stood the castle of Sigmund. Walking round the castle walls, at length he found the great garden, and there he placed himself where he might see any that walked therein but might not himself be seen, for he wished that Torfrida should not know of his coming, thinking to content himself by the sight of her and depart. So shortly after the evening meal he saw one walking towards his hiding place: he knew it was Torfrida and his heart leapt. Then he arose among the bushes and saw that no person was with her, it being her custom to walk alone. Long time he stood there, and then the thought arose in him—why should he not speak with her? She seemed sad and heavy-eyed, and never again might he behold her. Then thoughts of his broken oath and dishonoured name held him back once more. Now she turned and gave a little sigh; now her gaze wandered towards the place where he stood, as if her soul knew that one she sighed for was there, though her mind knew it not. That look decided his wavering—how might he withstand those eloquent eyes! Softly he struck a few familiar chords; she started, paused; he continued the air softly, then stepped forth, and in a moment she had thrown herself into his arms, weeping wildly and too glad to speak. At length she said—
“Now hasten thee away, for if thou art seen the death of the spy will be thine, and none of thy good deeds shall save thee.”
“Is this all, Torfrida, thou hast to say to one who hath thrown away even his troth and his worship for thee—naught but ‘Get thee hence’?”
“Nay, now, thou knowest that I would keep thee and never send thee hence; but I would see thee again, and this if any find thee here I am not like to do, and—there! thou shalt have a kiss for thy hardihood in coming. Nay, now, let me go; I kissed thee, but did not tell thee to kiss me. See, thou hast ruffled my hair which is only now new done. Stop, stop, thou hast taken kisses enough to last thee a twelvemonth!”
“Then thou wouldest rather that I took only such as would last me a shorter time that I may come again the sooner. O sly Torfrida! but that I may keep in with thee I swear that these I have taken shall last but twelve days, when thou shalt see me again.”
“Nay, let me beg of thee—if thou shouldst be discovered!”
“I can but die, and as well for Torfrida as for Penda.”
So Feargus departed and reached Penda’s land, but in trembling and like a guilty man he went, for his heart lay heavy in him at the breaking of his oath, and he found Duncan waiting upon him. And Duncan seeing his master downcast feared that he had fared ill and asked of him, “What aileth thee?”
“Then thou shunnest me not, Duncan, the breaker of oaths?”
“And what for should I shun thee: for breaking oath wrung from thee in such brutal wise!”